Forever
by QuantumVelvet
Summary: An immortal's servitude may last forever. Unfortunately, a mortal's life rarely does. Contains major spoilers for AWE.


**Disclaimer**: The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise belongs to Disney. Characters and concepts belong to Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio.

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_Note: I know there is supposed to be a deleted scene that states Will's servitude will end if Elizabeth is faithful. I'm just not taking that into account for this fic. Consider it AU, if you'd like._

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Ten years at sea, one day on land. It was a hard bargain, but Will wagered there were worse he could have made. His father's deal with the first captain of the Flying Dutchman did not so much come to mind as hover continually at the back of it, even as he replenished his crew from the souls of those who were not yet ready to move on from the world of the living to the world of the dead. He wondered now and then how they thought serving upon the ship that ferried the dead would solve whatever business they'd left unfinished, but in the end decided that it was not so much a matter of finishing up as it was a matter of being unable to let go. That, he could certainly sympathize with. Though he performed his duties loyally, there was still now and then a twinge of temptation to turn aside, to find Elizabeth and sail away with her, free from all responsibility. But she could not come on his journey with him, and to neglect it would be to suffer Jones' fate. And even were he willing to inflict that upon himself - and he was not, he would have to admit if questioned, even in his darkest hour - he would not be willing to inflict it upon his crew, or his beloved.

Ten years at sea, one day on land. And in that one day was Elizabeth.

The first time he saw her after their parting - after their honeymoon, scant as it was - he was able to convince himself that she had changed no more than he had. If she had filled out some, well, she was no longer living aboard a pirate ship, no longer fighting or running for her life. Steady food and clean water did wonders for a person's health. Her child - their child - was a marker of the passage of time that was harder to ignore. And while he was delighted to meet the boy, it hurt knowing that he would be no more a father than his own had been to him in his youth, and for much the same reason. He was able to comfort himself with the fact that at least in his son's case there was nothing to avenge. He was alive, after a fashion, and the only enemies he would claim he had were well and truly dead.

He did not ask how Elizabeth supported herself and the boy, and she did not ask after his business in the twilight world between life and death. And if their joy at being reunited was bittersweet, still the reunion _was_ joyful. Despite any fear he may have had to the contrary, she had not abandoned him.

When they parted, he kissed away her tears, and he did not shed his own. They pretended that ten years was not so long, if they had one another at the end of it, even for only a day. Any distance was diminished by love.

The second time he saw her, he could not ignore that she had aged. A life under the sun had browned her skin and carved lines into the corners of her lips and eyes that, while not yet deep, would only grow more pronounced over the years. Her hair was shorter, neatly braided and almost matronly. He still thought her beautiful. She told him that she had missed him, and that their son had married. The woman was sweet, and kind, and not at all adventurous, and their first child was due in the fall. He shared some of the tales imparted by a new crewman, picked up from a shipwreck in the Americas and full of stories of adventures almost as fantastic as they'd had years ago.

When they parted, he pretended not to see her tears, and he did not shed his own. He cursed the passage of time, and wondered if the distance it put between them was greater than the distance enforced by his travels.

The third time he saw her, most of her hair had gone grey, and the lines were deeper. The face was that of an aging woman, worn by care and by sun and by wind, and while she was still beautiful it was a different sort of beauty. She told him of his grandchildren, two boys and a girl, the youngest as precocious as ever her grandmother was. He told her of the exotic locations he'd seen, places both beautiful and terrible, and promised that the next time he would bring her gifts as well as stories. She smiled, and thanked him, and he thought that for a moment there was a look of profound sorrow in her eyes.

When they parted, he pretended not to realize that she shed no tears, and he did not shed any of his own. He cursed the passage of time, and wondered if she had grown to hate him, just a little, for the waiting.

The fourth time he went to see her, she wasn't there. It took some searching before he found her. The headstone was set on the bluff overlooking the ocean, where she had once told him that she waited for the flash of green light on the horizon so that she would know when to go down to the beach. He was not certain how long he stood staring, unable to fully comprehend what it was he was looking at. While he knew that Elizabeth was mortal, he had never truly expected her to die. If he had occasionally doubted that Elizabeth would be _willing_ to wait for him during that first decade, still he had never considered that one day she would not be _able_ to wait.

He shed no tears when he departed. His heart still beat in a box, with no one left to hold it. There was another ten years to serve aboard the Dutchman - and another, and another, and another. And at the end of each decade there would be no one waiting.

Eternity, of a sudden, seemed rather like forever.


End file.
